


if we ever meet again

by dalyeau



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Aomine/Kagami mention, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 05:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2297444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalyeau/pseuds/dalyeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You have a date!”</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous, Takao.” Midorima hates how warm the back of his neck feels. He scratches it irritatedly. “We only agreed to attend a match in each other’s proximity for no other reason than sharing a common goal in middle school and a decent dynamic as former teammates.”</p><p>“This is why we can’t have nice things, Shin-chan.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	if we ever meet again

**Author's Note:**

> don't let the summary trick you into thinking this is humor. quite the contrary, i'm probably taking this dumb ass basket anime more seriously than i should, but i just can't shut up about how much akashi's mental health and happiness is of Great Importance to me. and i love the idea that if knb wasn't, you know, the dumb basket anime where people dont seem to care that akashi has a major personality disorder, _then people would actually acknowledge the fact that akashi has a major personality disorder._
> 
> hence, mentions of mental illness and therapy in this fic. also i guess i should warn there's a pretty solid aokaga moment, in case that doesn't float your boat.

"I saw a therapist for some years," Akashi says over his cup of coffee, before taking a sip in a way that makes him look oddly delicate thanks to his fluffy gloves and pink cheeks. They’re flushed red from the cold. "She was good, but I'm doing fine on my own now."

The Happy Mug is a coffee place right across the street of his clinic, and Midorima sits in front of his former basketball captain at a table outside, a blue music box between him and Akashi. (Oha Asa said that it should be red to maximize his luck, but Midorima isn't particularly fearful for his fate since Cancer's ranking is high enough.)

He tries to imagine Akashi Seijuro sitting on a couch and talking his problems away in some female doctor's office, and fails spectacularly.

"That's good," he says after a moment, and it really is.

Akashi's eyes are both the same piercing colour from his middle school days. When he takes off his gloves in that neat way of his to grasp his cup of coffee and proceeds to smile pleasantly at its warmth, Midorima's breath catches in his throat a bit. He’s not really sure why.

"Kuroko recommended her to me," he continues. "That was helpful of him."

"I have not spoken to him in years," Midorima says stiffly, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"That's really a shame."

Midorima finishes his cappuccino as he tries to remember the last time he saw his teammates from school; he still keeps in contact with Takao, who's living now in Germany, but other than him there's really no one he's talked to in the last half a decade. At least not frequently. During his first years in university Kise used to text him once in a while to invite him to what he called the _Miracles annual meet-up_ (plus Kagami and Momoi) but as time passed the texts became rarer until they stopped. He still isn't sure if they decided not to invite him anymore or if the meet-ups stopped altogether.

Either way, that's how it is, and Midorima is satisfied with his life. He works at the clinic from Mondays to Saturdays and practices his old basketball techniques on Sundays alone at the park, something he used to do with Takao before he moved to Europe. He has a nice place near a shop that sells most of his lucky items across the street. In June he's going to Berlin to visit Takao. Today's cappuccino is hot and sweet.

Midorima is just fine without miracles.

Not that meeting Akashi for the first time in what feels like centuries is unpleasant. It's just unexpected, like not finding his lucky item at the shop, or like that time the clinic closed for three days because they were re-painting the walls and no one told him, or like running into Akashi Seijuro at the pharmacy next to that same clinic and being asked for _a cup of coffee, Shintarou, I'll pay._

Midorima did not let him pay.

(The little green box Akashi was buying at the pharmacy rests near Midorima's music box, discreetly hidden from view in a small paperbag. It's some medication to fight insomnia, if Midorima's memory isn't failing him. He used to take it during exams season not that long ago.)

Akashi finishes his own coffee in silence, and Midorima wonders if he regrets this last hour. He hadn't sounded displeased during their conversation, asking Midorima about his university years and his current interest in basketball and his work at the clinic, but he's never really been the kind of person that people enjoy talking to, and Akashi isn't (or didn't use to be) the kind of person that enjoyed talking to people without a specific reason or goal.

They don't really make good material for a nice catching up session.

 

 

 

 

 

When they get up and Akashi grabs his paperbag, he says, "You look good, Shintarou. I'll see you again."

It sounds a bit like an order, and a bit like fate.

 

 

 

 

 

It's when he's opening the door and stepping into his house that Midorima realises what was so different about Akashi that left him breathless.

He looked peaceful.

 

 

 

 

 

Akashi stopped playing basketball for good half a year after starting therapy. He doesn’t tell Midorima more than that, as they sit outside The Happy Mug for the fourth time in a couple of months, but he doesn’t need to. Midorima knows the amount of hard work that could be undone if Akashi did not respect his mind’s barriers and triggers.

They don’t talk a lot; mostly they just sit and drink while Akashi reads, mouth covered by his white scarf, and Midorima completes the German crossword Takao sends him via e-mail every morning. It’s a good way of practicing for his trip, even if it’s so basic it makes him feel like a child.

Midorima pushes his glasses up irritatedly.

“Seven letters, but I know it should be six. This doesn’t make sense, it has to be a trap.”

“I don’t think a crossword can do that,” Akashi says almost gently, without looking up from his book. The cover is dark red and it looks like some mystery novel. “Are you working this Saturday?”

“As always. Until five.”

“Good. Atsushi’s match is at eight, we’ll have plenty of time to get there.”

Midorima only has one moment to innerly cringe at the irony of Murasakibara being the only one from the Generation of Miracles that plays basketball on a professional level, before he realises what Akashi’s doing.

“I have no interest in-”

“Shintarou.” Akashi tugs at his scarf, pushing it down his face to reveal a little smile. “I’m asking you out because I think we’ll both like it. Think about it and call me later.”

Midorima stares for so long that Akashi finishes reading two more pages of his book.

“I don’t have your number.” He’s pretty sure he hasn’t called anyone but Takao and his mother in the last five years. His sister calls him every day, even if sometimes Midorima doesn’t pick up.

Akashi takes his sweet time finishing the last page of the chapter he’d been reading and then proceeds to pull out a little card from his front pocket. He pauses to look at it curiously.

“I don’t work there anymore, but I like it. I still have a few.” He hands it to Midorima.

_Akashi Seijuro, CEO of Seijin Group of Companies._

His phone number is listed on a corner. The ink is red and, somehow, ominous.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You have a date!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Takao.” Midorima hates how warm the back of his neck feels; he scratches it irritatedly. “We only agreed to attend a match in each other’s proximity for no other reason than sharing a common goal in middle school and a decent dynamic as former teammates.”

“This is why we can’t have nice things, Shin-chan. Just don’t be surprised when he kisses you goodnight at your door.”

“Die.”

“Then you won’t have a free tour guide when you come here.” There’s a pause. “Okay but really, is he still crazy?”

“He’s been working on his mental illness, if that’s what you're implying,” Midorima replies, icy.

“Sorry Shin-chan, you know what I mean. That guy used to want to take over the world or something.”

Actually he sort of did, Midorima thinks, and shakes his head briefly.

“I have to go.”

“Good luck on your date!”

“I always carry my lucky item, fool.”

The last thing he hears before hanging up is Takao’s obnoxious laughter, and it’s not until half an hour later when he’s finished his dinner that Midorima _realises_ and wants to die, just a little.

 

 

 

 

 

Akashi is so small.

Midorima hadn’t really thought about it because they’d always been sitting at the coffee place and the table between them also disguised the size difference, but now that they’re walking side by side he feels impossibly aware of it. Akashi’s lost some muscle since he doesn’t exercise nearly as much as he used to, and without that volume the line of his shoulders is almost lanky, his waist narrow, his jacket a little baggy around the arms. Midorima thinks that if it wasn’t for his presence, solid as iron, he’d be as easy to overlook as Kuroko.

Murasakibara wins his match, and maybe Midorima is a little pleased on his behalf, but mostly he’s just horrified that he just witnessed Aomine absent-mindedly caressing the back of Kagami’s neck with his thumb as they watched the match on their seats in the front row. He briefly wonders if Kise and Kuroko are somewhere in there too, perhaps even Momoi.

They have dinner afterwards, just him and Akashi, and the waitress gets this funny look on her face when Midorima carefully places next to his chair the stuffed elephant he’s been carrying all day.

“That was a nice evening,” Akashi says as they reach Midorima’s place, his hands in his pockets. “Did you enjoy it too?”

Midorima narrows his eyes at him, because Akashi has that look on his face that says, _I still am absolute._

“I admit I did not hate every minute of it as I thought I would,” he reluctantly declares.

Akashi nods like that’s all he needs.

Then he stops at Midorima’s door, grabs him by the collar of his jacket and pulls him down for a quick, dry kiss. Midorima clutches his elephant tightly.

 _I must not tell Takao_ , he thinks.

 

 

 

 

 

Takao laughs about it for about a week.

 

 

 

 

Akashi is even smaller up close, fitting between Midorima's limbs effortlessly.

They have started taking their coffees in Midorima’s home instead of The Happy Mug, and when they’re done Akashi will drag Midorima to the couch and they’ll spend the rest of the evening there, Akashi falling asleep between his legs soon after Midorima starts carding his fingers through his hair.

He’s stopped taking his insomnia medication.

They haven’t kissed again, but that’s okay.

They still don’t talk much, either.

Midorima always takes off his glasses, and wakes up to an empty couch.

 

 

 

 

 

Akashi kisses him again, on that couch.

This time is not as short, and not as dry. Midorima thinks kissing is weird and disturbingly wet and awkward, but he likes the way Akashi grabs him by the back of his neck, firm and determined, how he cranes his own to reach Midorima’s mouth.

Then Akashi settles back between Midorima’s legs and says, “Your hands. In my hair.”

Midorima obeys.

 

 

 

 

 

“I wish to… apologise.”

He’s so out of his comfort zone he’s nearly twitching.

Akashi raises a thin eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I shouldn’t have looked away from your… condition. In school. I neglected your well-being when it was in plain sight that you were going through deep psychological issues that needed treatment as early in their development as possible. As the only person who noticed at the time, I feel responsible.”

Akashi looks down, dark eyelashes casting shadows on his pale skin, and Midorima holds his breath when he looks up, half-expecting to see a golden eye staring back at him.

“That’s kind of you, but unnecessary.” Akashi pulls his scarf up, covering his mouth, and looks away towards the plane outside. Sunlight filters through the glass wall and makes his red hair glint nearly pink. “Enjoy your vacation, Shintarou.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Shin-chan, you’re not supposed to text all the time when you’re on a road trip with your best friend. That’s rude.”

 

 

 

 

 

_Atsushi said I look happy._

Even through a text message, Midorima can feel the curiosity and wonder in Akashi’s words, like he’s never heard of such a possibility before.

 _What are you thinking?_ he texts back when Takao isn’t looking.

 

 

 

 

 

_I don’t know_ , Akashi says. Then, a couple of minutes later,  _Maybe I am._

**Author's Note:**

> will i ever stop writing vague and weird ass future fics where two socially inept adult characters learn to adjust to each other while rediscovering their dynamic and end up being together but not really in a conventional relationship, stay tuned to find out.


End file.
